


Muse

by notallbees



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Artist and Muse, Bathing/Washing, Casual Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Massage, Pining, Rimming, Sugar Daddy, Top Ignatz Victor, compensated dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26798980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: Cyril slowly crossed the room to where Ignatz stood, rifling through a tray of pens, pencils and charcoal, trying to choose his weapon. "Everything off?" Cyril asked, unbuttoning his jeans slowly.Ignatz paused, and his eyes cut across to Cyril, who toyed with the final button on his jeans playfully. Ignatz smiled again, but his eyes were heavy with intent, and the look he gave him went straight to the pit of Cyril's stomach. "Everything," Ignatz repeated, and licked his bottom lip slowly. "Yes...all of it, if you don't mind."Ignatz needed a muse, and Cyril just needed someone.
Relationships: Cyril/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	Muse

**Author's Note:**

> this is for all 7 of u cygnatz fuckers
> 
> please treat yourself to some classic chet baker [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RSTgjycYi_0) [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HXSFTe7tbqY) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zrSoHgAAW) while u read. is this about cyril catching feelings? is there anything better than an unromantic person craving romance? no comment...

Cyril was on the bus home from his second job waiting tables when he got a text that made his stomach tense pleasantly. 

**Ignatz:**  
Still working?

 **Me:**  
just finished. headin home.

 **Ignatz:**  
Have you eaten? Want to come over?

Cyril's chest warmed, and he texted back an affirmative before he could stop to think about it. He promised to head over as soon as he'd showered, and Ignatz offered to pay for a taxi. It made Cyril's pride twinge briefly, but he'd learned to accept these little acts of generosity that Ignatz offered without even thinking about them. Ignatz never got offended or annoyed if Cyril protested, but his quiet disappointment was worse than an argument. 

Cyril arrived at Ignatz's place an hour later, wearing a pair of tight jeans that were worn at the knees, and a thin t-shirt with a low neck that Ignatz had admired him in before. He paused on the doorstep, sweeping his hair back from his face self-consciously, and dragging his bottom lip through his teeth a couple of times, trying to remember if he'd brushed his teeth, before lifting his hand to ring the buzzer. 

Ignatz buzzed him in, then met him at the top of the stairs with a warm smile and a handsy embrace, tucking one of his hands into Cyril's back pocket while the other cupped the back of his neck, thumb pressing into the side of his neck. Cyril suppressed a shudder, returning Ignatz's smile shyly as they broke apart.

"You must be starving," Ignatz said, taking him by the arm and leading him into his loft. "Come in."

His apartment was four times the size of Cyril's, open and airy, with huge windows and skylights to let in as much natural light as possible. At the far side of the apartment, his bed was half-hidden behind a screen, unmade and welcoming. Cyril caught himself staring, and forced his eyes back to his host. Ignatz had made some kind of pasta, which he was currently decanting into mismatched dishes. He fished around in a drawer, made a face, then came up with one spoon and a pair of chopsticks. 

"Which do you want?" he asked. "I'm afraid I've misplaced most of my cutlery."

"Uh...the spoon," Cyril said, holding out his hand. 

Beaming, Ignatz passed him a bowl and the spoon, then propped himself on the chair beside Cyril and began to pick at his own meal with the chopsticks. Ignatz almost always fed him when he visited; at first Cyril had been prickly about it, worrying that Ignatz thought he couldn't afford to feed himself, but he'd come to wonder if in fact Ignatz mainly offered to feed him so that he would remember to feed himself. Ignatz always seemed to have a hundred other things on his mind, and it sometimes seemed to Cyril as if he could survive for days on coffee and paint fumes alone. 

"Mm...a little too much pepper," Ignatz said, wrinkling his nose. He blinked at Cyril, then pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled. "How was work?"

Cyril shrugged. "It was work. How's uh—how was your day?"

"Good!" Ignatz said, cheerfully speaking around his mouthful of pasta. "I made some progress with that hotel commission, it shouldn't be too much longer now. I'm excited to get back to working on my own project."

"Ah...will you need me to model for you again?"

Ignatz's eyes brightened. "I was hoping you'd ask," he said, beaming. "Do you mind if we do some sketches tonight? I promise I won't keep you too late if you're tired. I'll pay you for the time, of course."

"Sure," Cyril agreed. For once, he didn't have an early shift the following morning, and he was secretly hoping that Ignatz might ask him to stay. Ignatz was still watching him eagerly, his chopsticks poised and ready to strike. Cyril smiled down at his food. "I don't mind." 

"Great!" Ignatz said with feeling, and wolfed down the rest of his pasta so fast that Cyril wasn't sure he'd even chewed it. Before he knew it, Ignatz was rushing around setting up his light stands and a stool, and trying to look as if he wasn't waiting for Cyril to finish eating. 

Hiding his smile, Cyril took his empty bowl to the sink, then slowly crossed the room to where Ignatz stood, rifling through a tray of pens, pencils and charcoal, trying to choose his weapon. "Everything off?" Cyril asked, unbuttoning his jeans slowly.

Ignatz paused, and his eyes cut across to Cyril, who toyed with the final button on his shirt playfully. Ignatz smiled again, but his eyes were heavy with intent, and the look he gave him went straight to the pit of Cyril's stomach. "Everything," Ignatz repeated, and licked his bottom lip slowly. "Yes...all of it, if you don't mind."

Cyril shrugged, letting his t-shirt drop to the floor. "I don't mind."

I was more than that, of course. Cyril hadn't said yes the first time for the money, though it certainly didn't hurt. Ignatz was always calling Cyril things like captivating or fascinating, but Cyril found Ignatz just as fascinating. Probably more. As Cyril slipped off his jeans, taking his underwear with them, he glanced back to find Ignatz watching his backside without a trace of shame. 

"My eyes are up here," Cyril said without heat.

Ignatz didn't even blink. "I wasn't planning on drawing your eyes," he replied quietly, still staring.

Cyril snorted, and kicked his clothes aside before going to the stool and perching on it, his knees slightly apart and his elbows resting on top of them. Across the room, Ignatz finally tore his eyes away from Cyril and, picking up a sketchpad and a stick of charcoal, dragged a second stool over and sat down to start sketching. 

"This is just gonna be quick, right?" Cyril asked.

Ignatz nodded without looking up. "Half an hour at most. Will that be alright?"

"Mm," Cyril hummed. "Don't pay me for this one, it's a favour."

Ignatz's expression didn't change. "Whatever you want."

Cyril nodded, satisfied. 

Ignatz sketched him for a couple of minutes, then he started directing Cyril to adopt different poses. With each one, he'd sketch for a minute or two, then ask for something different. After four or five, he got up from his awkward perch on his stool and walked over to Cyril, reaching out to adjust him with his firm, gentle touch. Cyril shuddered as Ignatz's hands ran along his arms, lifting one to tuck a hand behind his head, moving the other to rest on his thigh. Their eyes met briefly, and the corner of Ignatz's mouth tilted in a faint smile, one that sent heat rippling down Cyril's spine. 

"Are you alright to hold this one for a few minutes?" Ignatz murmured, wrapping his hands gently around Cyril's knees. 

Cyril swallowed, and nodded. 

Ignatz looked pleased. "Just put your arm down if you get tired, I don't mind."

"Alright," Cyril agreed. His voice came out rough, and Ignatz's eyes darkened. 

"Do you need to get home?" he asked, stroking his thumb against the inside of Cyril's knee, touching the soft, sensitive patch of skin there.

Cyril suppressed a shiver. "I—-uh, no."

Ignatz's smile widened a little. "So you'll stay?"

"If you're askin'," Cyril muttered.

"I'm asking," Ignatz whispered, and leaned in. He pressed his lips against the corner of Cyril's mouth, sliding his hands higher up Cyril's thighs. Their fingers brushed where Cyril's hand rested on his leg, but before Cyril could react to the touch or the kiss, Ignatz pulled away. 

As Ignatz retreated to his sketchbook, Cyril took a couple of deep breaths and tried to think of unarousing things. He didn't mind Ignatz drawing him nude, but he didn't particularly want his erection to feature. After several more poses, Cyril's shoulders were beginning to ache after his long day at work, and he suggested that they take a break. Upon realising what the problem was, Ignatz apologised profusely, and hurried to run a bath.

"You know I just showered a couple hours ago, right?" Cyril asked in a wry tone, privately afraid that perhaps some trace of greasy kitchen smell lingered on his hair or skin.

Ignatz gave him a cool look. "I didn't say you needed a bath, but the heat will help your shoulders."

"It's really okay…" Cyril protested weakly. "You don't have to—" He trailed off when Ignatz pulled off his own baggy sweatshirt and leggings, eyes tracking down his slim figure. "Oh, okay."

Ignatz grinned over his shoulder. "Come on," he said, gesturing for Cyril to join him. "If you won't let me pay you for this one, at least let me return the favour somehow."

Giving in with a shrug, Cyril watched Ignatz climb into the bath, then joined him, settling down with his back to Ignatz's chest. Humming contentedly, Ignatz put his arms around Cyril's chest and rested his chin on Cyril's shoulder. His skinny thighs bracketed Cyril's waist, and he could feel Ignatz's half-hearted erection against his spine. For the first time in days, Cyril let himself relax, the hot water draining all the tension out of him. For a while they simply lay there together, pressed close, breathing against one another in the soothing heat. 

Ignatz's fingers trailed idly over his chest, stroking up his sternum, lingering over a nipple, tracing out the shape of his muscles beneath his skin. "You've been going to the gym more," he murmured eventually, his voice soft and delicious against Cyril's ear. Shivering, Cyril nodded. "Trying to impress me?"

Cyril's face warmed; some little part of him _had_ wanted Ignatz to notice, even if it hadn't been his main motivation in going. "No," he muttered sullenly, not wanting to seem so easy.

Ignatz laughed, his breath tickling the side of Cyril's neck. Cyril was starting to get turned on now too, but just as he was beginning to enjoy the anticipation of what might come next, the other man pushed him to a sitting position without warning. Before Cyril could protest, Ignatz drizzled some oil over his shoulders, then started to knead them with his hands. 

"O-oh, shit," Cyril hissed, letting his head fall forward with a groan. "Ignatz…"

"Anywhere in particular?" Ignatz asked softly.

Reaching back, Cyril vaguely gestured to the inside of his shoulder blade. Ignatz started to grind into the tight muscle there with his elbow, and Cyril was unable to stop the low cry of mingled pain and relief as the pressure in his shoulder eased. 

"Too hard?" Ignatz asked, pausing.

Cyril shook his head. "It's good. Don't stop." 

Ignatz kept working at the knot in his shoulder a little longer, then began to work out from there again, loosening the tightness across Cyril's back. After a few minutes, he gradually softened his touch, until he was stroking his thumbs up and down the length of Cyril's neck. 

Turning his head, Cyril leaned back into him and kissed him without reservation. He felt Ignatz smile against his lips before returning the kiss, and the two of them melted into one another once more, relaxing down into the water again. Cyril reached up to cup the back of Ignatz's neck, fingers brushing the soft, fuzzy line of his undercut.

Ignatz kissed the side of Cyril's head, then lowered his face to kiss his wet shoulder, the side of his neck. "I want to take you to bed," he murmured, his hands roaming across Cyril's bare chest. 

"Mm," Cyril hummed approvingly, arching his back to press his chest into Ignatz's hands. "Me too."

"Well, that's convenient," Ignatz said cheerfully, and kissed his shoulder again. He looped his hands under Cyril's arms, reaching down to stroke his cock slowly. "Will you let me try something?"

Cyril nodded. "Sure."

Ignatz groaned and held him tighter. "It's really arousing, the way you trust me." 

Unsure how to respond to that, Cyril was silent, relaxing into Ignatz's touch. 

After a minute or so, one of Ignatz's hands crept down below his balls. "Wash yourself down here for me," he murmured. "I'm going to find you a towel."

A few minutes later, they were stumbling out of the bathroom together and across to Ignatz's rumpled bed, kissing eagerly as they went. Ignatz went shamelessly for Cyril's towel as they approached the bed, unfolding it from around his waist and throwing it on the floor, then he put his arms around Cyril's neck and drew him down to kiss him slowly. 

"I'm glad—you could—come over," he murmured between kisses.

Cyril smiled, wrapping his hands more tightly around Ignatz's hips. "Me too." Ignatz had put some slow jazz on before coming to fetch him from the bath, and Cyril tried to force down his self-consciousness as he started to move his feet, swaying Ignatz with him on the spot. 

Ignatz smiled up at him, then laid his head against Cyril's shoulder with a sigh, leaning into him as they started to dance slowly. "I didn't think this would be your sort of thing."

"It wasn't. I like that you're always showing me new stuff," Cyril replied quietly. He ducked his head and kissed Ignatz's bare shoulder. "I like being with you."

"Mm," Ignatz hummed, hugging him tighter. "I'm glad to hear it."

After a few minutes they slowed to a stop. Cyril slid his hands lower, crouching a little, and scooped Ignatz up in his arms, hands gripping his thighs tightly. 

Ignatz let out a gasp. "Oh, that's new," he murmured approvingly, nuzzling the side of Cyril's head, nosing at his damp hair. "Although I can't do anything to you like this."

"You can do that in a minute," Cyril said, turning to put him down on the bed, and covering him with his own body. "There's no rush."

Ignatz smiled indulgently. "No, no rush," he agreed, gazing up at Cyril through his thick glasses. 

They kissed without hurry, and Cyril poured into it all the loneliness of waiting over a week to see him again, the slow burning anticipation of Ignatz's hands on his bare skin, the tenderness that was absent from his days without Ignatz around. Ignatz was an excellent kisser, and he ran his fingers slowly through Cyril's curls as they kissed, occasionally catching handfuls and tugging lightly. Cyril could feel Ignatz getting hard against his belly, and he ground against him slowly, pressing their hips together as he deepened the kiss, tasting Ignatz's tongue, both of them moaning and gasping into each other's mouths. 

After a few minutes, Ignatz moved his hands over Cyril's shoulders, sliding down his back to grab handfuls of his backside. "Cyril," he murmured, sliding one of his feet up the length of Cyril's leg. "Roll over for me, gorgeous."

Cyril kissed him once more before shifting his weight to let Ignatz up. He hesitated on his hands and knees, but Ignatz smiled at him, and then his hands were on Cyril again, gentle, firm, shifting him into position. He put Cyril on his hands and knees, running his hands over him reverently as he slowly moved behind him. 

"Ignatz—" Cyril's breath caught as Ignatz spread him apart with both hands and leaned in to tongue his hole slowly. "A-ah—!"

Ignatz paused, licking his lips. "Do you want me to stop?"

Cyril's face was scarlet. He was glad Ignatz couldn't see it. "N-no," he said weakly. "Don't stop."

Ignatz let out a low chuckle, then he leaned in again, hot breath against Cyril's skin. Then his tongue, soft and wet, circling his hole a few times before licking over it firmly. 

Cyril's breath came out sharply, and he clenched his fists in the sheet, his cock twitching between his legs. "I-Ignatz," he whimpered, thighs trembling. 

"You like it?" Ignatz asked, his voice trembling with barely concealed excitement. 

Groaning, Cyril buried his face in the sheets. "Uh huh."

Ignatz's delighted laughter warmed his chest as well as his face, but Cyril didn't care when Ignatz resumed his task enthusiastically, putting his arms around Cyril's hips as he settled in to his work. Cyril's stomach turned molten at the sensation of Ignatz's lips and tongue working him open, the way he varied the pressure, licked and sucked, occasionally stopping to tease at Cyril's backside or thigh with his teeth. His enjoyment was so obvious that it made Cyril faintly embarrassed, but he felt too good to mind it. 

Cyril had no idea how long it had been when Ignatz sat back and reached for something. One of his hands slid between Cyril's spread legs, where he cupped Cyril's balls, massaging them gently, while with the other he pressed a wet thumb against Cyril's hole, and rubbed it slowly back and forth. 

"Do you want me to fuck you, pet?" he asked softly. 

"Yeah," Cyril groaned, whimpering as Ignatz slid his hand up higher to grip Cyril's cock. "Please."

Ignatz laughed, and lowered his head to kiss the base of Cyril's spine. At the same time, he slid a slick finger inside him, seeking out his prostate and stroking over it slowly, sending a full body shiver through him. "Are you sure?"

Cyril gritted his teeth, gripping the sheets again tightly. "I want your dick. You edged me for three hours last time."

"Was it three hours?" Ignatz murmured, half to himself, as he withdrew his hands and wiped them clean on a towel.

"At least," Cyril replied without heat. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Ignatz open a half-empty box of condoms and pull one out. He frowned; he'd brought that box of twelve with him last time, and they'd only used one or two out of it. Something dark and ugly twisted itself up like a knot in Cyril's chest, and he forced himself to look away again. He and Ignatz weren't dating, and they definitely weren't exclusive. Ignatz would probably tell him about it if he asked. Cyril didn't want to ask. 

"Are you alright?" Ignatz murmured, returning to place his hands on Cyril's hips. 

Cyril nodded. "Fine. You can put it in."

Ignatz giggled. "I will," he said, his voice warm. He nudged Cyril's hips, turning him onto his back. "But first, I want to look at you."

Cyril didn't protest, though Ignatz's request made his flush deepen as he rolled over and Ignatz leaned over him. "What is there to look at?" he asked gruffly.

Ignatz's face softened, lips parting slightly. He brushed a curl of hair out of Cyril's eyes, and kissed his brow softly, then the tip of his nose, and finally his mouth. "You're just...perfect," he said, cupping Cyril's cheek with his hand. 

"You have a funny idea of perfect," Cyril muttered, glancing away, though his chest felt like it had a thousand tiny birds trapped inside it, their fluttering wings humming against his ribs. 

Humming, Ignatz trailed a hand down the centre of Cyril's chest, pausing to trace a finger around his navel, then he reached down between them and nudged his cock against Cyril's hole. "I think you're perfect," Ignatz said, and reached for Cyril's hand as he slowly pushed inside him. "And—perfection is—mm, it's—in the eye of the beholder, you know."

Cyril huffed, but he didn't stop the reluctant smile that chased across his face, and he finally turned his head up to take a kiss from Ignatz. 

"There," Ignatz murmured approvingly, as Cyril's smile widened. "Beautiful."

It was absurd, Cyril thought, for Ignatz to find his too-small nose and his too-broad cheekbones attractive. Ignatz who had a pretty, angular little face, delicate wrists that held surprising strength, and freckles across his shoulders that Cyril often thought about tracing with his tongue. " _You're_ beautiful," he returned, making it sound almost like an insult, which made Ignatz laugh. 

"Does one preclude the other?" Ignatz asked softly.

Cyril laughed reluctantly. "Guess not," he muttered, watching Ignatz with open affection.

Ignatz laughed and kissed him softly, before resuming his easy pace. Cyril had only slept with a few guys before Ignatz, and none of them had looked at him, or treated him, the way Ignatz did. They liked him because he worked out, or because his parents had been Almyran, and that meant he looked _exotic_. Cyril had pretty much only dated assholes. 

He'd never felt close to anyone the way he did when he was with Ignatz. Ignatz touched him like a beloved family heirloom, one that was handled often, with a casual reverence that made his heart hammer in his chest. 

They spent a few minutes pressed together, limbs entangled, exchanging lazy kisses as they fucked. Then Ignatz reached down to slide a hand underneath the small of Cyril's back. His other hand gripped Cyril's hip, and he sat back, his knees apart, pulling Cyril's hips into his lap, thrusting into him deeply. 

Cyril put his head back with a low cry, letting his legs fall open wider as Ignatz fucked him with slow, powerful thrusts. Already he could feel himself plunging toward the plateau, too worked up from Ignatz's touch. He wanted to slow it somehow, but he didn't want Ignatz to stop. 

"I'm—I'm gettin' close," he groaned, reaching for his cock. "C-could you—a little faster—"

"Faster?" Ignatz asked quietly. He reached for one of Cyril's legs, lifting it to hook over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss the inside of Cyril's thigh. "I can go faster, pet."

Cyril nodded, trembling. Ignatz was so deep inside him like this, and as he started to fuck his hips faster, Cyril gave in and let himself tumble over the edge. He groaned as pleasure spread through him, then tipped his head back again with a high wail as he came over his fist, thighs twitching in Ignatz's grasp. He lost himself in it so fully that he didn't even realise Ignatz had come as well until he saw him pulling out and tying off the condom. 

"Wow," Cyril sighed, as he came back to himself.

Ignatz laughed softly as he lay down beside him. "Are you alright?"

Cyril grinned, turning to face him. "Wow," he repeated. "Guess I needed that."

"I'm glad it helped," Ignatz said, his smile warm. He slid his arm around Cyril's waist, throwing a leg over his hip. "I enjoyed that too."

"Yeah, sorry," Cyril murmured, an anxious twinge in his gut. He leaned in to kiss Ignatz, running his fingers down the side of Ignatz's face. "I didn't mean to get so, uh—caught up in it all."

Ignatz shook his head. "That wasn't what I meant. I'm really happy you enjoyed yourself." He caught Cyril's hand and pressed a kiss into the centre of his palm. "I always have a lot of fun with you."

Cyril smiled shyly. "Yeah?"

"Absolutely," Ignatz said, nodding.

Cyril glanced away, that knot of anxiety giving another sharp twinge. "Are we, uh. What—what are we?"

Ignatz frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I…" Cyril bit his lip. "I know you, uh—I know I'm not the only guy—" He paused, realising he didn't even know if Ignatz was gay. "Not the only person you're doin' this with. So...what does that make me?"

"Ah," Ignatz murmured, his brow still creased. "You want to know if you're my mistress?"

Cyril stared at him. "I—no! I mean...I guess, maybe, but that. That's not what I was askin'."

Ignatz's nose wrinkled. "Hm. Well, I'm not sure exactly what you mean, but I'm not in a relationship with anyone, so I'm not cheating on anyone with you."

The words were a punch to the gut, even though Cyril had known they were coming. He grimaced, glancing away again. "Right. That's...good." 

"What's wrong?" Ignatz asked, still wrinkling his nose in confusion. "That...wasn't what you were hoping to hear."

Cyril sighed. "I dunno what I wanna hear." He looked up, meeting Ignatz's worried gaze. "I like you a lot. I never liked anyone this much before. And...nobody ever liked me this much before."

Ignatz frowned. "Then, what are you saying?" He gave Cyril's hand an encouraging squeeze. "Does it...bother you? Me seeing other people?"

"I dunno." Cyril winced. "It makes me feel kinda...squirmy. But I think that's just 'cause I dunno what we are." He pulled Ignatz's hand toward him, pressing it flat against his chest. "I don't wanna be just...just some casual lay you call up when you're bored."

"Oh, Cyril," Ignatz said, frowning as he lifted his hand to cup Cyril's face. "I would _never_ think of you that way." He smiled, brushing his thumb along Cyril's cheekbone. "I think you are—marvellous." He laughed. "Truly marvellous. You're kind, and thoughtful, and you make me laugh." Ignatz let his hand slide down again, covering Cyril's heart. "You're the kindest person I think I've ever met. I respect you deeply, and I'm very sorry if I've made you doubt it."

Colouring, Cyril shrugged and ducked his head, but Ignatz tucked a finger under his chin and leaned in to kiss his brow. 

"Please, tell me what _you'd_ like us to be," he murmured.

Cyril huffed. "I dunno," he muttered, searching Ignatz's curious expression. "I just. I guess I—I wanna feel like I matter all the time. Not just when you're drawing me."

Ignatz's eyes widened, his mouth parting. "Oh, Cyril—oh no, do I really—gosh, I'm so sorry, please forgive me." He shifted closer, putting his arms around Cyril and hugging him tightly. "I'm so, so sorry I made you feel that way."

Cyril winced, uncomfortable with the effusiveness of Ignatz's apology. "It's okay—"

"No!" Ignatz interrupted, pulling back from him and looking at him intently. "You're quite right, I get busy and distracted, and I forget to see you." He shook his head, sighing. "I don't know if I can—I'm not sure I'm the _dating_ type, if that's what you need, but we can talk about it. I want to make sure you feel happy and appreciated, as you should."

"Alright, alright," Cyril sighed, granting him a weary smile. "Enough apologisin' already."

Ignatz smiled weakly. "Sorry."

"Hopeless," Cyril said, laughing. "Look, I ain't askin' you to marry me, just...don't leave me hangin' for two weeks without callin', okay?"

Ignatz nodded. "Okay."

"And…" Cyril blushed. "We can...do that thing again, if you want."

A devious light came into Ignatz's eyes. "The rimming? Or the part where I fucked your brains out?"

Cyril winced, his flush deepening. "Both."

"You are utterly charming," Ignatz sighed, moving closer again and wrapping his arms around Cyril's neck, cradling him to his chest, and pressing a kiss into his hair. "Are you all tuckered out?"

"Pretty much," Cyril mumbled, snuggling into Ignatz's chest. "Long day."

Ignatz hummed softly and kissed him again. "Alright then. I'll save round two for when you wake up."

Cyril's eyes snapped open, his cock twitching with interest. "Ah...you meant _that_."

Ignatz laughed and nudged his thigh against Cyril's cock. "Oh, to be young."

Cyril blushed. He wasn't sure exactly how much older than him Ignatz was, but he guessed they had at least a five year age gap. One of these days he would ask.

"Tomorrow sounds good," Cyril murmured, closing his eyes again. "Long day."

"Tomorrow," Ignatz agreed.

**Author's Note:**

> [RT on twitter](https://twitter.com/notallbees/status/1312482701123809280) | [read my fe3h fic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/works?fandom_id=23985107)


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